Downton Drama
by Carrie86
Summary: The missing detail from episodes 3x06 and 3x07, mainly surrounding Anna and Mr Bates, but also involving their relationsihps with other characters including Thomas, Lord Grantham, Mrs Hughes, Lady Mary, Tom, Vera, Mrs Bartlett, Officer Durrant and Craig. Apologies for the lame title - trying to think of a better one...
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers for series 3.**

**This story adds dramatic detail to episodes 3x06 and 3x07. I was generally happy with what happened in the broadcast episodes, but I thought they didn't go far enough; they lacked detail, explanation and drama. So, I have attempted to provide that.**

**Many of the scenes can stand on their own as one shots. The events of the broadcast episodes are sort of interspersed throughout them, but I generally haven't written them in, because I don't want to make you read dialogue that you've already seen. So, you'll just have to deduce from what the characters are saying what has happened already and what has not happened yet. **

...

Anna's body contracted rather jerkily as she collapsed onto the crate with a sigh. Her feet relaxed a little, but nothing else did. Until last autumn, the longest day she'd ever had was when Thomas had left for his army medic's training two days before a major luncheon attended by everyone who was anyone in the surrounding counties, and Ethel hadn't known what she was doing so Anna had had to do most of the work herself. Well, Anna and William. She sighed again at the thought. Poor William. Another young life lost.

This evening in late 1920, Anna had seen Lady Mary truly loose her composure for the first time ever. She'd seen her cry before, sure. Not often, but she had – usually over Mr Crawley. But they had only been short and temporary tears, just briefly spilling over the top of Lady Mary's usually tightly guarded wall of composure. Anna had often marvelled at the strength her lady showed in the face of heartbreak. But her strength had deserted her tonight.

The bell had rung only twenty minutes after Alfred and James had taken the dinner up. Lady Grantham's bell had rung at the same time, and for once, Miss O'Brien had not complained at being called to her duties early.

Anna had emerged from the servants' door in the young ladies' corridor to find Mr Crawley approaching from the far end of it. "Is everything alright, Anna?" he asked. It was a pointless question in a house that was drowning in grief.

"Lady Mary has just rung for me, sir," Anna replied.

Mr Crawley stopped in his tracks. "Ah," he said. He looked unsure, nervous. "I was just coming to see if she was alright."

Anna stopped also. If Lady Mary was not alright, then perhaps the person who should be comforting her should be her husband, not her maid.

Mr Crawley stepped aside. "Perhaps you could…" His hand waved in the direction of the door.

...

Anna could not have been prepared for the sight and sound of her mistress lying face down on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably, but she took it in her stride. She gingerly placed a hand on Lady Mary's shoulder, and began to rub it gently. She didn't say anything. There was nothing that could be said.

...

Anna reflected that the crate really was very uncomfortable. And the courtyard was cold. She wondered why she'd never particularly noticed this on all the many nights she'd sat there with Mr Bates.

She sighed again. She'd come here, to the place that reminded her of him, hoping to somehow gain some comfort from it, but it was no use. The thought only reminded her of all the many other long days she'd had in the past year. Anna wished she could lose control in the way that Lady Mary had. She wished she had someone to come and pat her on the shoulder. But that would never happen in a house like this one, where everyone, including herself, was too reserved to contemplate such gentle mercies. She reflected that it had never happened for Lady Mary before either.

Anna's reverie was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching from the driveway that led to the back of the house. They sounded slow and unbalanced. She heard a grunt and a crash, and began to get to her feet to see if the person was alright, but the crash was followed by the sound of the footsteps recommencing in a much more brisk manner and continuing to move towards the house. Then Anna saw a flash of light from a match as the figure came to a halt a few metres in front of her. He was facing away from her, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

"Are you alright, Thomas?" Anna asked.

Thomas jumped and looked around. "Jesus! You scared me out of me bloody wits."

"I heard a crash."

Thomas turned his back to her and took another puff. "Just kicked that old wheelbarrow," he grunted.

"Oh. Did it help?"

"Not really."

The atmosphere between them was still there, of course it was, but it had softened. Last night, Anna had seen a different side of Thomas. A side that she could identify with. A grief that she shared. She thought that she should go back to her room, but something kept her sitting on the crate.

"Where have you been?" she asked him.

He took his time replying, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "At the pub. With Dr Clarkson and some other people who…worked with her."

"That's nice. A kind of…colleagues memorial?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that."

Silence again. There had been a lot of silence in the house today.

"It was Dr Anderson's idea – he's the director of the General Hospital in Ripon. Just happened to be visiting today and heard the news. Lady Sybil dealt with him quite a lot, apparently, making plans for the hospitals and the convalescence homes. Not that she had any power over it, she just liked to help."

"I know she did."

Thomas stubbed out his cigarette on the wall of the laundry. He stood holding the butt for a moment, and then threw it at the ground with force. "Does it make you angry?"

"What?"

"The whole thing. That someone as young and as special as that can just be taken…for no reason."

"It makes me wonder why."

"Yes. Why. Why?"

"It is a cruel world we live in."

"Yeah, I know that, the world's always been cruel, especially to me, but to someone like that, someone who never hurt anyone in her life…"

"It's not her who's suffering now, though. It's the ones left behind. Lady Sybil's suffering is over."

"What, and you believe she's in heaven now?"

"Well, if anyone would be there, it would be her."

"Whatever."

"When something bad happens, all you can do is try to make sense of it. Try to move on. If you can, try to make something positive out of it…Though I confess, I haven't had much luck doing that today."

"Does it annoy you how everyone's harping on about it in the servants' hall when they hardly even knew her? I mean, Mr Carson did maybe, a bit, and you did, but Daisy was blubbering all through breakfast, and honestly, what's it got to do with her? So what if someone whose father you work for dies? It only means something if you knew her."

"Don't be silly. Lady Sybil was kind to everybody – of course everybody's sad."

"Alfred and Jimmy aren't. And Ivy. I wish they were but they aren't. They didn't know her."

"Daisy did, though. She taught her to cook."

Thomas looked at Anna for the first time, old memories passing across his face. "Oh yeah. She did."

Anna smiled. "I remember sitting in the servant's hall one afternoon – I just had a minute to myself and I was doing some mending, and I could hear what was going on in the kitchen, and Mrs Patmore said something loud like, 'Oh my lord, what on earth is that?' and then she realised who she was talking to and she quickly had to change it to, 'I mean, ah, I'm not entirely sure what it is you've tried to achieve, my lady'!'" Anna smiled again, and for a moment, Thomas joined her. "Lady Sybil wasn't offended, though."

"No. No, she wouldn't be. She never would be offended by something like that."

"No."

"That was one of the things I liked best about her. That she wasn't like the rest of them, she wasn't too lah-di-dah to muck in with us real people and do real things. And she talked to me like a real person, she didn't make me feel like I was less than her."

Anna frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Do the other Crawleys make you feel like you're less than them?"

"Yes."

"Lady Mary doesn't make me feel like that."

Thomas scoffed. "Does she not?"

"No."

"Well maybe that's because you know what she really is, you know all about her, so she can't lord anything over you."

"No, it's not like that. I treat her with respect and she treats me with respect."

Thomas scoffed again and sat down next to Anna. "I'm sure she's nice enough to you, but she doesn't think of you as her equal and she doesn't appreciate how hard you work. Anything she does do for you is probably out of gratitude for what you did for her over the Pamuk thing. It's only big things like that that they appreciate, or even notice. It's like his lordship only gate Bates a job cos he saved his life, and he only made me valet cos I tried to find his dog, but all the times I served him at dinner he didn't appreciate it at all."

"It was your job to serve him at dinner, Thomas. It wasn't your job to look for his dog."

"It wasn't your job to move a dead body for a fallen woman."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're still hiding it? When everybody -"

"I understand what you're saying about Lady Sybil – yes, she was different, but if you insult the rest of them you insult her memory."

Thomas looked at her for the second time. Her gaze was unfaltering. He realised he didn't want to argue with her. "Fair enough," he conceded.

"You know, if you're worried about people not being kind to you, perhaps you should be kind to them – if you're nice to someone, then they're nice to you back, that's how it works."

Thomas nodded. "I know. I just can't bring myself to be nice to people I don't like."

"Well, it's your loss. You're the one who's lonely."

"Oh, and you're not? Name me one servant who's not lonely!"

"What? Plenty of servants aren't -"

"No, well you're not, are you, because your Mr Bates is coming back, isn't he?"

Anna looked away.

"He is, isn't he? And where will I be then?"

Anna turned back, fire in her eyes. "For your information, I don't know if he's coming back, or when, but if he is, and all you can think about it is your stupid job rather than the triumph of justice in the release of an innocent man, then there is really no help for you, Thomas, because if you're that shallow and selfish that you don't even care that -"

"Alright, alright." Thomas put up his hands. "You do care, I know. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"Look, I only started speaking to you because we're both grieving about Lady Sybil and I thought it might help to talk about it - I wanted to talk about it, anyway, but instead you've spent the whole conversation insulting people I care about, and maybe it's good to get some anger out once in a while, but I don't see why we should -"

"Yes, it is good to get anger out."

"Is that what you're doing?"

Thomas shrugged. There was silence again. Anna wondered why she wasn't in bed yet. Because there was no sleep to be had, that's why. She frowned again.

"I'm sorry, Anna, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Anna's frown became a grimace of surprise. Thomas, apologising?

He sighed and adjusted his position on the crates. "It's hard for me. That's all."

"Well, life can be hard. We can't control that. What we can control is our attitude to it. I assume, since you apologised, that you're trying to be nice to me, and that therefore you would like me to be nice to you in return, but I'm not going to do that if you insult the people I care about."

"I didn't insult Mr Bates. I merely implied that when he comes back I'm going to lose my job."

"You did insult Lady Mary."

Thomas lit another cigarette and nodded nonchalantly. "There aren't many people in this house that I have a high opinion of."

"Well, that's your loss. I'm going to bed." Annoyed as Anna was, she did appreciate the new emotion. It had pushed away the grief and the worry. She got up and began to walk towards the back door. Just before she got there, she heard him say something, but as she was now on the other side of the courtyard, she couldn't quite hear it. But she thought it was,

"You're alright though, Anna. Thanks."


	2. Chapter 2

The heavy metal grate slid aside with its usual crunch, and there he was.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello Anna," he replied, with a sad smile.

"How are you?"

"I'm sad. I've been thinking about Lady Sybil a lot."

"Me too." Anna reached into her bag and pulled out a card with a picture of a field of lavender on the front. 'In Sympathy', it said. She handed him a pen.

"Thankyou. I appreciate this." He held the pen over the card, hesitated for a moment and wrote.

_To Lord and Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, Lady Edith and Mr Branson,_

_In deepest sympathy over your most tragic loss, I am thinking of you._

_Yours truly,_

_John Bates_

He sealed the card in its envelope and handed it back to Anna.

"I'll give it to her ladyship this evening…or maybe Lady Mary. Her ladyship isn't up to much conversation these days."

Mr Bates sighed. "Poor woman. My mother was never the same after my sister died."

"You told me, a while ago…that your sister died in childbirth."

Mr Bates nodded. "The child died too."

Anna shook her head. "That must have been horrible for you."

"I wouldn't know, I was in Africa."

"That doesn't mean you weren't sad."

"There's something else, another favour I have to ask you." Mr Bates removed a piece of paper from his pocket, showed it to the guards to confirm they approved, and passed it to Anna. "It's a letter for his lordship," he explained. "Only, that horrible prison paper – I wonder if you might transcribe it for me. Onto something nicer."

"Certainly. Of course."

"Thankyou. I really do appreciate it."

"It's no trouble."

"Is there any word from Mr Murray?"

...

"You won't win over the christening."

"Not if you're against me."

"I'm never against you, but you've lost on this one."

"Did Sybil truly not mind?"

"She wanted Tom to be happy. She loved him. Very much, you know. We all need to remember that."

"I keep forgetting she's gone. I see things in the paper that would make her laugh. I come inside to tell her that her favourite rose is in bloom. And then suddenly…"

"Say that to Mama. Please."

"She doesn't want to hear it from me."

Lord Grantham sank onto the settee, hunched forward, staring idly at the glass in his hands.

"But…" Mary paused, unsure, for a moment, then strode purposefully over to sit opposite him. "Sybil wouldn't have wanted -"

"If you say Sybil wanted the baby to be Catholic, I won't argue with you. Or with her."

"I'm not talking about that."

Lord Grantham leaned further forward, hiding his face so that his daughter couldn't see the tears in his eyes. "Would you leave me, please, Mary. I'm sorry."

"No, Papa, I'm sorry. But Mama will get through it. I promise." Mary stood and walked to the doorway, then stopped, and turned. "You do know, don't you, that Mama is wrong. It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it," said the earl, his voice finally breaking.

"No. It wasn't."

His shoulders began to shake as his daughter left the room.

...

He was almost asleep when the voice came, in the darkness, above him.

"So what did you do, then?"

The bunk rocked, as usual, as his cellmate's head appeared beside the mattress of the top bunk, looking down at him.

"What?" grunted John.

"What did you to do make your wife hate you so much that she killed herself just so that you'd be sent to prison?"

John rolled over. "None of your business."

"I'd say it still counts. You did kill her. You drove her to it."

"She was crazy, Craig. Just like you."

"What did you do to her?"

"Shut up." John's teeth were clenched. "Go to sleep."

"Did you rape her? Is that why she had to marry you in the first place?"

"No I did not."

"Did you bash her?"

"No I did not, I have never committed a crime in my life and I would never hurt a woman!"

"But that's not true, is it? Never committed a crime? You've been inside before. And you've threatened me, and you've framed me, and you've -"

"Will you SHUT UP, Craig?"

"Oi!" Loud footsteps came towards the cell. "Who's that making noise? You'll shut your mouth if you know what's good for ya!" The guard shone a torch into the cell.

"It was Bates, sir. He keeps talking to me, insulting me!"

"SHUT UP, CRAIG!"

"Bates! You will speak only when spoke to!"

John sat up and glared at the guard, his brow sweating, his body shaking with anger. Craig sneered down at him. "You see what he's like, sir."

"And you can shut your face too! No noise after lights out, you snivelling cur! Both of you are on hard labour for a week!" The guard stormed back down the corridor, plunging the cell into darkness again.

Craig slumped back onto his pillow. "Bastard," he whispered. "You'll pay for that."


	3. Chapter 3

"Visitor, Bates."

John started in surprise. It wasn't Anna's day to visit – she'd only been a couple of days ago. It must be Mr Murray. Hope stirred in John's chest, and was rapidly squashed by a glare from Durrant.

"May I wash my hands, Officer?"

"No. Get going."

John quickly held his dirty hands behind him when he saw who the visitor was. For the first time, he thought it a good thing that prisoners and visitors weren't allowed to touch.

Lord Grantham looked up. "Bates," he said, his lips attempting to twist into a smile that his face wouldn't co-operate with. "How are you?"

"I'm alright. I'm sorry, my lord, I'd like to shake your hand, but we're not permitted to touch."

"Really? Gosh."

"How are you, my lord?" What a question, he thought.

"I'm sorry I haven't been to see you sooner, Bates."

"Oh no, I…I didn't think you would – that is to say, this place is awful, and you should not be made to…"

"The truth is…I needed to see a friendly face."

"Well…" Bates smiled. "My face will always be friendly to you, my lord. I'm only sorry that you had to see it in a place like this."

"Which is why I haven't been to see you sooner. Cora thought it would be…inappropriate or something."

John nodded. "I understand."

"Thankyou for the letter."

"It was the least I could do, my lord. I do so wish that I could do more."

"Thankyou."

"You, of all people, do not deserve -"

"It was my fault, Bates. I killed her. That's what Cora thinks."

Lord Grantham watched as his former valet's face contracted in shock. "No, that's…"

"I think it's what I think too."

"Forgive me, my lord, but what on earth would you think that?"

"Has Anna told you about Sir Philip Tapsell?"

"A little."

"It's funny, I should really be blaming him. But I hired him. And I consented for Dr Clarkson to be there as well – too many doctors, too many cooks spoil…" He looked away.

"I understand that Dr Clarkson and Sir Philip Tapsell disagreed over the course of treatment, but I don't see how that could possibly be your fault – you are not a doctor and you can't -"

"Clarkson said, early on, that Sybil had 'pre-eclampsia', he called it. That she had swollen ankles and was disorientated – those are the symptoms, apparently. Tapsell swore blind that she didn't and I believed him."

"So you backed the wrong horse."

"He swore to me that he could deliver the child safely, that both mother and baby would be safe, and I trusted him because…because he had a good reputation…even though I didn't know him at all, and he didn't know Sybil at all."

"That doesn't make it your fault that she died, my lord. I wouldn't say it was his fault for missing the signs either. He's only human."

"And Clarkson was only human when he missed the signs with Lavinia and mis-diagnosed Matthew, which is why I called Tapsell in – I didn't trust Clarkson…but he was right."

"You didn't know that he was right, my lord. There's a good chance that in the heat of the moment he didn't know, either."

"'It may not work,' he said."

"What may not work?"

"Clarkson said that the only way to prevent eclampsia was to take Sybil to the hospital and perform a caesarean section. And he said that it may not work. While meanwhile on the other side of me there was Tapsell saying, 'Caesarean is dangerous, but I can guarantee the safety of both mother and child if we deliver naturally, there is no eclampsia.'"

"Well then of course you'd believe him."

"But Dr Clarkson knew her history – of course she wouldn't be disoriented, Sybil…Sybil was always so…in control. Of everything. And she had medical training too and I didn't ask her…and I didn't ask Tom. We asked Tom right at the end, and he and Cora wanted to take her to the hospital, but by then…it was too late." Lord Grantham's voice broke, and he paused for a moment to regain his composure. "And as she lay dying," he swallowed, "Cora and Tom knelt beside her screaming, and they could have saved her, but…I didn't let them."

His lordship looked down, and Bates saw a tear fall onto the table. He realised that his own eyes were wet, too.

"I'm sorry, Bates, I…You've got your own problems, I shouldn't have -"

"No, my lord, I'm honoured that you came to me. Now let me tell you what I think. I think that you loved your daughter very much, and that you would have done anything in your power to make sure that she and her baby were safe – that's why you got Sir Philip Tapsell there in the first place, wasn't it?"

Lord Grantham nodded stiffly, still unable to look up.

"And he told you, he promised you, that he could deliver the child safely, at Downton Abbey, and that Lady Sybil would be just fine. Whereas Dr Clarkson wanted to perform a dangerous operation, hurriedly and in the middle of the night, which he himself said may not work, and which Sir Philip said was completely unnecessary."

"But it was necessary. Sir Philip felt that Dr Clarkson was undermining him and he was probably arguing with him just on principle!"

Bates shook his head. "I don't believe that, my lord. One doctor was wrong and one doctor was right, but the doctor who was right could not guarantee Lady Sybil's safety. You do know, my lord, that even if you had taken her to the hospital and done the caesarean section, she might have died anyway."

"Dr Clarkson may have been able to save her. Tapsell killed her. And, as her ladyship said, I blocked the last chance we had to save her life. It was a chance, yes. Only a chance, but…isn't any chance worth -"

"But you didn't know that he was right. Dr Clarkson was offering you a _chance_ that mother and baby would make it through safely, but also recognising that maybe one of them wouldn't, or maybe both of them wouldn't."

Lord Grantham nodded. "That's what Tapsell said."

"He was right. He was right about that – caesarians are very dangerous. And he was offering you a definite promise that through natural birth, in his hands, both your daughter and your grandchild would be alright. One doctor said to you, 'Maybe I can save her,' and the other said, 'She will be absolutely fine.' Of course you chose the second one! You didn't have hindsight – you had to go for the best chance that you could see for Lady Sybil at the time! And if Lady Grantham doesn't understand that, then…Then…she is crippled by her own grief, and she cannot see clearly."

The earl began to calm as he listened to his friend talk. He was painfully reminded of how much he missed the man.

"Lady Sybil's death is a terrible tragedy, my lord, but it was no-one's fault. Especially not yours. You did the best that you could. Sometimes horrible things just happen and…there's nothing we can do."

...

"Any luck with Bates' case, Anna?"

Anna shifted awkwardly as she braided Lady Mary's hair. "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"He said he knows who got Mrs Bartlett to change her story, and he said to leave it to him."

"Mr Murray said that?"

"No, Mr Bates said that."

Lady Mary looked surprised. "Bates thinks he can fix it?"

"He thinks he can. Which makes me worry."

"Why? Does he have a bad track record with things he thinks he can fix?" Mary's eyes twinkled.

"Well…yes, now that you mention it, but I'm worried because I don't know what he's going to do. If there's someone in the prison who's against him enough to stop evidence of his innocence from being heard, then…they must have some power, and they might be dangerous."

"But surely he wouldn't tell you he could fix it if he didn't have a pretty good idea of how to stop this person?"

"I suppose so, my lady, but if it turns out he can't persuade them, he might lose his temper with them, and then…"

Mary turned to give her maid a questioning look. "You don't think he can do it?"

"I hope he can, obviously." Anna smiled nervously. "I guess I just don't want to put all my trust in something that might not work. Especially seeing as I don't know what it is, or who this person is or why they're doing this."

"Oh, men are maddening, aren't they? 'Leave it to me, it'll be fine, I know I'm right.' Papa does that all the time. And Matthew's started recently."

"I suppose it's just natural for me to worry because I can't do anything."

"Yes. It is natural for you to worry. But I'm sure it'll be fine." Lady Mary smiled. "He'll be home soon."

...

Officer Durrant grabbed John by the arm and fairly yanked him up the stairs. John stumbled. "I'm sorry, Officer, I can't move that fast."

"Oh. Poor you. You can't move that fast."

At the top of the stairs, John stumbled again as Durrant pushed him inside his cell, and stepped in behind him. Craig stood in the corner, smirking. John looked around warily.

"I've heard some awful things about you today, Bates. Awful, terrible things – I never realised what a nasty man you are."

John stood with his hand on the desk, keeping his face as passive as possible.

"Apparently your wife had some horrible disease, and you never even asked after her. You probably caused it and all, being the bastard you were to her, a bloody drunk and a thief!"

A muscle in John's jaw twitched. He said nothing.

"I hate drunks, don't you Craig?"

"Can't stand them."

"Bloody indefensible bastards, they are. Pathetic."

"Yes, Officer Durrant, I agree with you." John leaned back against the wall. "Did you get this information from Audrey Bartlett, by any chance?"

Craig stepped forward. "You agree with him? You act like you're so bloody holier than thou, when you're nothing but a -"

"Do you know who else are indefensible bastards, Craig? Tattle-tales. Snitches. Even worse are the ones that make stuff up to get you into trouble. I don't have to make stuff up about you. I've got loads of stuff on you and it's all true. Does your new wife know about it?"

"Yes she does."

"Not all of it, surely. There's stuff there that I wouldn't even say within earshot of a lady." Durrant sniggered. "Not that your wife is a lady, of course!"

John's eyes narrowed. "Yes she is."

"No she isn't, not by a long shot – going with a man who was married to somebody else?"

"Don't push me, Mr Durrant!"

"What? What are you gonna do? There's two of us and one of you!"

"I know how to make a noise. And I know how to fight."

"So your slut of a wife, before she was your wife, did she -"

John thought he heard himself roar as he picked up the desk and flung it at Craig, before aiming a powerful right hook at Durrant's nose. He toppled like a domino. John picked up the chair and charged at Craig.


	4. Chapter 4

The servants' dinner was quite late that evening, owing to the staff having to support the family in their grief, and the family having to support each other – Mary and Matthew hadn't arrived in the dining room until quite late, pulling a dejected-looking Tom with them. The servants' dinner, therefore, was later still.

Mr Carson was just bringing his soup spoon to his mouth when the back doorbell rang. All the staff looked at each other.

"What on earth?" said Mr Carson wearily. "Alfred, will you answer that?"

"Yes, Mr Carson."

"I hope everything's alright," said Mrs Hughes.

Anna chewed her bread nervously.

"It's probably a telegram," said Mr Molesley. "They come at all hours of the day or night."

"I can't imagine what about." Mr Carson still seemed indignant at the very idea that someone should be out so late at night, let alone that they should be disturbing someone else's dinner.

Alfred reappeared after less than a minute. "It's a telegram for Anna, Mr Carson."

Anna felt her heart stop as she tore the envelope open, and then it started beating again at double its usual pace as the read the telegram, the colour draining from her face.

"Anna?" said Mrs Hughes. "What is it?"

"May I use the telephone, Mr Carson?"

"At this hour?" blustered the butler.

"Of course you may," said Mrs Hughes, "but whatever's the matter?"

Anna thrust the telegram into her hand as she ran out of the room.

"Oh my lord," Mrs Hughes exclaimed as she read the few short words on the paper.

"What does it say?" asked Alfred.

"It says that Mr Bates has been injured in some kind of fight and that he's in the prison hospital."

"In a fight?" said Miss O'Brien, an expression of disgust on her face. "How shocking."

...

After the dinner was cleared away, Mrs Hughes sent everyone to bed.

Ivy protested. "But Mrs Hughes, I wanted to -"

"Don't argue, you've all had a long hard day and that's not going to let up anytime soon if – Jimmy! That includes you!"

"I thought I was under Mr Carson's direction, Mrs Hughes."

"Mr Carson wants you all in bed too – now shoo!"

"I'm glad to go to bed," yawned Alfred, leading the others along the corridor.

Mrs Hughes found Anna still standing by the phone, her back turned. The housekeeper stood watching her for a moment, then stepped into the room. "That was the prison you phoned, I take it? Could you get any more information?"

"A little." Anna remained facing away, reaching into her pocket for a hanky.

"Is he alright?"

"They said he…" Anna's voice broke.

Mrs Hughes stepped forward to put a hand on her shoulder.

"They said he was stabbed -"

"Oh!"

"- with a broken chair leg. Whatever that means – I don't know how sharp it was, or…"

"But the doctors – the prison doctors are seeing to him? In the hospital?"

"Yes, and apparently I am allowed to see him there, but not until the morning. They weren't very pleased that I called, actually."

"Well if they're going to send you a telegram now, of course you're going to respond now!"

"I'm so glad we're married. If we weren't, they wouldn't have bothered to tell me."

"Come and finish your dinner, Anna. I've put it in the oven to keep warm."

"I don't think I'm hungry anymore. All other thoughts have been pushed from my mind."

"Come on." Mrs Hughes put her arm around the lady's maid and led her into the corridor. "You know, sometimes, just when you think things can't possibly get any worse, all of a sudden, they get better."

...

"Mail," said the guard gruffly, stepping into the dingy hospital room. John tried to sit up – usually, they were made to stand to attention to get their mail. The pain in his side stopped him.

"Don't get over excited, Bates," grunted the guard. "There's one for you, though." He threw an envelope at John's feet, from where it promptly slid onto the ground. John tried to reach for it, wincing in pain.

Smirking, the guard kicked the envelope towards the head end of John's bed, and then moved off around the room, throwing letters onto two or three other beds.

After some minutes of straining, John managed to pick the letter up. He looked under the sheets at the dressing on his left side. He hoped he hadn't popped the stitches. Looking at the front of the envelope for the first time, his heart sank. All that effort for nothing. It wasn't Anna's writing. Sighing, he opened the letter and began to read.

...

"Stabbed? What?" Lady Mary spun around with such force that the hair pin Anna had been about to fasten was pulled out along with several strands of hair, which it hung from, suspended in mid-air beside Lady Mary's right ear.

"With a chair leg, my lady. I don't know how sharp it was…but they did say, 'stabbed', so I guess…"

"Well you must get over there straight away!"

"Visiting hours start at 10."

"I see. Have you spoken to Papa? Will Pratt have the car ready?"

"Yes, Mrs Hughes has organised that."

"Did they give you any more information? Why or…how or…?"

"Only that his cellmate and one of the guards were involved… He's never got along with his cellmate, and now I'm thinking it might have been him that got Mrs Bartlett to change her story, and maybe Mr Bates was trying to…persuade him, but…"

"But he's a prisoner. What would he have to do with Mrs Bartlett?"

"I don't know, my lady. Obviously there must be someone else involved as well."

"You'll have to ask him when you go to see him."

Anna nodded. "I was just saying, my lady, last night about…about how worried I was that he might…"

"Yes. How worrying it is."

"He must have confronted his cellmate, tried to get him to reverse whatever he'd done to Mrs Bartlett, but instead the cellmate just attacked him and…I didn't realise how dangerous it was in there!"

"It's alright, nothing really bad could happen in there with so many guards around. One came to break them up and then the prison doctors treated him. He's alright."

Mary put her hand over Anna's. Anna nodded stiffly. "Yes, my lady. He's not any closer to getting out of there, though."


	5. Chapter 5

John was just drifting off to sleep when he felt a hand on his. It felt like Anna's. He took hold of it and squeezed it. What a nice dream.

"I thought you were asleep," said a voice.

John's eyes shot open.

"Are you alright?"

"Anna!" She was here? She really was holding his hand?

"Shh, it's ok." Her other hand came up to his pillow and began stroking his hair. He leaned into it, and his eyes fluttered closed.

"It's alright, John." She continued to stroke him.

"It's so good to feel your touch."

"I know."

"I think I must be dreaming. This can't be happening. Good things don't happen to me."

"Well you have just been stabbed."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that." He began to smile.

Anna frowned. "What are you smiling about?"

"I received a letter." With his free hand, he gestured to the envelope sitting on his bedside table.

"Who's it from?"

"Mrs Bartlett." John smiled again.

Her eyes wide as saucers, Anna reached across him to grab the envelope.

John's eyes shot open again, and his arm grabbed hers. "Don't read it, though, Anna, because – arrrgh!" He cried out in pain.

Worry erupted onto Anna's face.

"It's ok," he gasped, wincing. "I just…moved too suddenly." He opened his eyes. The letter was still in Anna's hand. He stared at it.

"What does she say? Does she exonerate you?"

"Yes. In a manner of speaking."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, she spends rather a long time going on about how I am still to blame for Vera's death."

"But you didn't kill her. She knows that, she says that?"

"Yes."

A smile began to spread across Anna's face.

"I'm sorry, Anna, of course you may read the letter if you want to, I was just a bit hesitant because she says a lot of things that….that you…" John looked up at his wife. She looked at him expectantly, hope radiating from her eyes. He couldn't help smiling. He raised a finger to her cheek, swallowed and continued. "Things that you don't know about. But I won't hide anything from you - of course you should read the letter. Just know that they are things that I am ashamed of, and I'm also ashamed about what happened last night, and I'm so sorry."

"What did happen last night?"

John's hand fell back onto the bed beside him, and he sighed.

"Was your cellmate the one who threatened Mrs Bartlett? Were you trying to get him to persuade her to change her story?"

"No, I did that the day before yesterday. Yes, he was the one, he and Officer Durrant, they've been against me from the start."

"Officer Durrant was the guard who tried to break up the fight. I think that was the name they said."

Her husband shook his head. "Yes."

"You're shaking your head yes?"

John lowered his voice. "I'll not hide the truth from you, Anna, but perhaps you might want to ask me about it when I'm out. I've told them that Craig attacked me, that I was defending myself, I aimed a punch at him, but Durrant got in the way and I hit him instead."

"Were they angry that Mrs Bartlett had changed her story?"

"Probably, yes. Or angry that I threatened them. But it seems to have worked, I think I've won."

"Won what, won the fight?"

John nodded.

"You're in a hospital bed!"

"That's good, because it makes it look like Craig won the fight, which means he's the one that'll be punished for it."

Anna looked confused.

"I'm sorry, prison politics are difficult, you have to show strength, you have to be on top of things. It's quite complicated, but even if I wasn't successful in getting them to go back to Mrs Bartlett – I think I was, though, otherwise they wouldn't have been so angry – but either way, Mrs Bartlett has written to me now, and that should be enough. I'll come home to you soon, my love."

Anna's face crumpled into a grin. "Thank god."

...

Anna began to read the letter in the car on the way back to Downton.

_To John Bates,_

_Alright, you win. Fair enough, I suppose, that if you didn't physically kill her then maybe you shouldn't be in prison, but if this is the evidence that is going to release you, I'm going to make sure that it also records all the things you did do to her, physically ,mentally and emotionally, until she had nothing left to live for. You destroyed her, John Bates. And even if you didn't put that poison in that pastry, you are still to blame for her death, because of all those things you did to her which should be illegal, which you should rot in prison for, and which, at the very least, your lawyer, your employer, your colleagues, your friends and your precious Anna should certainly know about. I will make sure that my friend Vera did not die in vain._

Anna wanted to stop reading. What had happened between John and Vera was none of her business. Or was it? No, it wasn't. But if she was going to submit this letter as evidence, she'd better make herself familiar with its contents. It was quite long. Maybe she wouldn't have to submit the whole thing. She began glancing through the pages, looking for the part where Mrs Bartlett would have to state, surely, that she had seen Vera making the pastry after John had left. Surely it was in here somewhere. Maybe over the page…

_She was_ _scared of you, John. I'm not stupid, I know that letter they used in the court case must have been a fake, she must have written it to throw suspicion on you, but she wasn't lying, she _was_ scared of you. I saw her running from your house in January 1917. I ran after her – it was snowing, and she hadn't a coat. I coaxed her into my house. She took a lot of coaxing – bloody terrified, she was. "I thought he was a horror when he was a drunk," she said. "I thought he was better now, but now that he is in control of his faculties it is so much worse. If he went for me, I used to be able to just duck, and he'd fall over. But now he's in control, and he is so strong."_

Anna closed her eyes. She'd always known that there was another side to John Bates, but she'd never actually seen it. It had never bothered her before, because it wasn't the real him – it couldn't be, she knew the real him. So he had a temper. So what? It wasn't the real him. She shook herself and continued looking for the bit about the pastry making.

_You drank all the money. A man with a wife is supposed to split his wage between the two of you, but by the time you'd taken care of yourself and your pathetic habit, there was barely a quarter of the wage left for her to pay for rent and food. And you still expected her to cook for you._

_The food became sparse. You didn't notice. She fell behind in the rent. She told you so. Several times, she said. She told you she needed money for the rent, and you wouldn't give her any. The landlord was on her back. You were in no fit state to speak to him, so she had to deal with it. She started working at the army barracks to try and pay for it, but she could only scrounge enough together to pay for one fortnight, and you were four months in arrears. The landlord told her he'd let it slide if she went to bed with him. She kept working at the army barracks, but she still didn't have enough, so she had to do it. Then he told her that only covered one month's rent, and she owed him four._

_She didn't owe him, you did. You bastard. Did you even know about that? Did you even know what she went through for you?_

No he didn't, thought Anna. Surely he didn't. He wouldn't let that happen.

She cleared her throat and looked out the window. Downton Abbey had just come into view across the fields.

"Have you found any further evidence, Mrs Bates?" asked Mr Pratt from the driver's seat.

Anna sighed. "I think so, I…I hope so. It's a bit complicated."

"Oh dear. Legal complications?"

"Sort of."

"You wouldn't catch me fiddling about with that stuff. Legal stuff's clear as mud to me – give me an engine any day! You seem ok with it, though, you can handle it. I'm very impressed."

"I'm not very good with engines."

The driver chuckled. "Maybe not, but you'll sort this mess with Mr Bates out. I'm sure you will."

Anna smiled sadly. "Thankyou, Mr Pratt. I appreciate your confidence."

The car passed through the gates of Downton Estate, and Anna looked back down at the letter. She thought she'd better find the evidence before she got back. Once she knew what was written, she'd be able to decide what to do with it.

She turned to the back page, and there it was, how Mrs Bartlett had seen the door open, how she'd gone in, how she'd walked with Vera to the post box, how Vera had been scrubbing pastry off her hands. Anna closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

_There was a sadness about her that day that I had never seen before. And she seemed very nervous, rubbing the pastry off her hands in a state of agitation. She told me that you were coming later. "Is he coming back to you?" I asked. She laughed. "Good," I said. "You've got to get away from him and build your own life."_

"_I tried that," she said. "It didn't work. And I don't have the time now."_

_I didn't know she was sick. Mr Murray told me – he'd found out from her doctor. She probably didn't tell anyone else. I think she finally realised that you had ruined her whole life – her whole life, because she wouldn't have the time to come back from it. So she wanted her due. I know she was a bit mad, but she used to be so full of life, so vivacious, while inside, she was hurting so much. She kept so much hidden. It's perfectly reasonable, after what you did to her, that she should want to get her due._

_At the post box, I broached the topic of divorce._

"_Give him what he wants?" she said. "No way. He's had his fun with me – now it's time for me to have some fun with him."_

_And she walked back up the street in the evening drizzle, the light from the gas lamps catching the water droplets and making a halo around her. She was a good person inside. Rough round the edges, sure. More so with the bitterness of all she had suffered. But she was my friend, and I'll never forgive you for what you did to her._


	6. Chapter 6

"Oh, Anna, there you are, thank God!" A flustered-looking Mrs Hughes emerged from her office with one of the maids just as Anna closed the back door. "Well get going, Alice, get it done!" The maid rushed up the stairs.

"What's the matter, Mrs Hughes?"

"Oh, never mind that – is Mr Bates alright?"

"Yes. He's in a bit of pain, but he's alright."

"Thank God. That poor man has suffered enough. And how are you?"

"I'm fine, Mrs Hughes."

"Good. Very good. Now, Anna, I have to ask you a favour. Not one but two of the maids have been taken ill, and Lady Edith's caught her dress on a door knob and ripped it - she's only got two black day dresses and she's in mourning for another five and a half months – her ladyship said she'll get some new ones made, but in the meantime, we have to mend this one."

Stepping back into her office, Mrs Hughes picked the dress up off a chair and showed it to Anna. There was a large rip extending down from the shoulder.

"No problem," said Anna. "I'll fix it for you."

"Well, actually, I was going to offer you a choice. You can either do this or you can go upstairs and help Alice – she's up there on her own, she's only done two of the bedrooms! I've got the footmen laying the table, but if the bedrooms aren't done by the time the family need to change -"

"No problem, Mrs Hughes." Anna set off towards the staircase.

"I am sorry, Anna, I know you're not a housemaid any more, but -"

"It's fine, Mrs Hughes!" Anna called as she ascended the stairs. "Sit down and have a cup of tea, I think you need one!"

...

It turned out that the reason Alice had done so few bedrooms was that, being a new young maid, she didn't know many of the tricks of the bed-making trade at all, so after Anna had explained some of them, things began to move a lot faster. When they got to his lordship's dressing room, Anna asked Alice if she would like to do that bed by herself, for practise.

Alice looked unsure.

"You'll be fine, it's a much smaller bed. I'll be there to guide you if you need it."

"Why does his lordship have such a small bed?"

"Because the tradition is that his lordship goes to sleep in her ladyship's bed."

"Oh. He's not at the moment, though, is he? He's slept in this bed every night for nearly two weeks."

"That's none of your business, Alice," said Anna as they arrived at the dressing room door. "In you go." She was about to go inside herself when she spotted his lordship coming up the corridor. "Oh, I'm sorry, my lord. We're just making the bed. Would you like us to come back later?"

"No, no." The earl shook his head distractedly. "That's fine. Listen, is Bates alright?"

"Yes, my lord. He's recovering in the prison hospital."

"Lady Mary said he was stabbed with a chair leg, what does that mean?"

"I believe the chair leg was broken and there was a sharp edge protruding. But he's alright, I don't think it penetrated very far."

"We'd better get him out of there as soon as possible – has there been any progress with Mrs Bartlett?"

"Yes, actually I need to talk to you about that, my lord, but I'm afraid we're two maids down and I have to help Alice."

"Oh, I see. What's wrong with the two maids?"

"Some sort of illness – I'm not sure, I've not seen them."

"Oh. Well, carry on." The earl continued walking slowly along the corridor.

"Err, we'll be done in a just a moment, my lord!"

"What? Oh, don't worry, I'm just wandering the house aimlessly. If I went into my dressing room, I'd…just sit there."

"Are you alright, my lord?" Anna didn't really want to ask the question.

"Hmm? Yes, perfectly, Anna. Thankyou."

...

Anna didn't come to see him for another week. He supposed she must be busy. She wouldn't be allowed to take another half day so soon. At least, he hoped that was why.

He'd tried writing a couple of times, but he just couldn't bring himself to finish the letter. He knew he owed her an explanation, but he just couldn't do it. So if she'd made up her own mind about it and decided not to see him anymore, then so be it…except that…he couldn't handle that. Dammit, where was his honour? Let the lady make up her own mind!

He couldn't do that, not any more. He needed her with every fibre of his being. He couldn't do the honourable thing and push her away.

"Visitor, Bates."

Mr Murray…or his lordship…or Anna? His heart leapt and fell at the same time. And suddenly there she was, sitting on the other side of that table, giving him that smile. Was it a kind smile or a loving smile? It was a radiant smile. Why was she radiant?

"I wanted to tell you myself. I've just got back from London."

John looked confused. "London?"

"To see Mr Murray. I told you in my letter."

"'Letter." John felt relief wash over him. He closed his eyes, breathing hard.

"Are you alright?"

"I didn't receive any letter."

"Oh. Have they stopped your mail again?"

John chuckled. "Must have. Either that or Durrant's reading your letters and then burning them on the fire. Did you say anything about the case?"

"Only that I was going to London to see Mr Murray."

"How did it go?"

"Fantastically." Anna grinned. "Very soon – he doesn't know how soon, but very soon, you will be free."

John's heart leapt, and for once, it stayed there. For the first time in over a year, Anna saw his eyes smile. She held his gaze, and smiled back.

"Thankyou," he said.

"Oh, hey, whatever I did, I did for selfish reasons. I want you home."

For the first time in over a year, John laughed. "Nevertheless. And also…" His face became serious again. "Also, thankyou for not jilting me when you read Mrs Bartlett's letter."

Anna dropped his gaze.

"I mean it. It must have been very confronting for you."

"I know you, John Bates. I know you better than you think I do. In your life, you've suffered a lot more than the average person does, and in the wake of that, there are things that happened…that you really can't be held responsible for."

"Don't make excuses for me."

"I know you."

John's eyes filled with tears. It never failed to amaze him exactly how strong her faith in him was. "I don't deserve you," he choked.

"Yes. You do. You are a good man, John."

"But don't…don't you want me to explain?"

"Well, most of that stuff is none of my business. If you want to tell me, you can. I can't say I haven't wondered. But it's what lead you to me, so I can't criticise any of it."

"I figured out what night it was. In January 1917, when Mrs Bartlett saw Vera running out into the snow. It was our anniversary."

"Oh. Not a good one, then."

"No, not Vera's – ours, you and me. It was two years since…"

"Oh. January, yes. Bloody freezing."

"If it was cold in the courtyard that night, I did not notice."

Anna giggled. "Me either."

"I couldn't call it our anniversary because we'd broken up, but…I'd been thinking about it all day. I was very depressed. Vera noticed that I was even more down in the dumps than usual, and she chided me for it. She did that all the time – she mentioned you all the time, she knew how to hit me where it hurt. She taunted me, because she thought she'd won. I knew she hadn't – at that time, actually, I'd just hired a private investigator to track down evidence of her infidelity. I'd been to see a lawyer right at the start, he'd told me that's what I needed, and I tried to find it myself but I couldn't, so about two weeks before that I'd hired a private investigator. But in those two weeks, I hadn't heard from him, and maybe I was losing hope a bit.

"Anyway, she got it out of me that it was our anniversary, and she revelled in it. She was saying all sorts of things about how I'd never see you again and if I did, you wouldn't be interested, and…and then she insulted you. She insulted your honour. I do remember the exact words she used, but I'll not repeat them.

"Well, I saw red, I lost it. Screamed at her. I'd been holding it in for a while at that point, so a lot came out. I really lost it. She ran out, and a couple of minutes later I left as well, at a similar pace. I went to the pub. Ordered a whisky. The barman put it on the bar in front of me, and I stared at it. For several minutes I stared at it, stared at the total mess that was my life, and I lifted the glass to my lips…and then I saw your face. I saw you, and I…I heard you crying as I walked away from you, and I wanted to make it right, and I couldn't do that if I drowned myself, so I slammed it back down on the bar and walked out."

John paused for breath, and he looked lovingly into her eyes, drinking her in. She was staring at him, transfixed. He looked down again.

"I didn't know that she was afraid of me, I had no idea. I was quite shocked to read that. She didn't let on. She knew I'd never hit her, she used to chide me about it. I came close a few times, but I always stopped, and she knew that. I thought she knew that…"

He realised his hands were shaking, and he pushed them into the table. "Anna, I swear, I never hit her. I'd never hit a woman, I'd never hit anyone who was weaker than I am." He closed his eyes in shame. "I did…grab hold of her a couple of times – no, a few times, including in Mrs Hughes' office, but I did not, I would never hit her."

Anna nodded. "I know. I believe you."

"Thankyou."

They sat for a while, breathing in and out, John looking at Anna, Anna looking at her hands.

"Did you know about the…the business with the landlord? Did you know?"

John shook his head. "Vera told me about it the day she died. She told me every single reason why she hated me – she made sure I knew."

"No wonder you looked so sad that day."

"She did tell me about the rent at the time, I was just too drunk to care about it. That was why she stole the silver, that's why I took the blame, because it was my fault. I didn't know about the bastard landlord, but I'm damn glad that I did take the blame for the theft, because I deserved that. I really did deserve that."

"What would you have done if you knew? About the landlord?"

"I would have gone after him with a chair leg."


	7. Chapter 7

Anna knocked, but there was no answer. Balancing the tray on one hand, she gently opened the door with the other.

She could see the lonely young man sitting by the window, cradling the babe in his arms. She heard a noise, very soft but somehow melodic, and she realised that he was singing to her.

Embarrassed, Anna thought she had better announce her presence.

"Mr Branson?"

He must have been surprised, but he didn't show it, turning slowly to look at her, the pain, as always, visible in his eyes. "Anna," he said. "Hello."

"I've brought you something to eat. Lady Mary said you didn't make it down to dinner tonight."

"No. I didn't."

"May I come in?"

Now, he jumped. "I'm sorry, of course!" He got to his feet. "Of course you can, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, sir." Anna stepped into the room and put the tray on a table.

"You don't have to call me that."

"I don't mind. I always called you Mr Branson, anyway."

"You don't have to call me 'sir'."

"Alright, Mr Branson."

"Thankyou for the food. I am hungry. Just couldn't face going down there with all the…the christening thing, and…the estate management thing. And Lady Grantham looking so…" Feeling his voice beginning to break, Mr Branson stopped talking and looked out the window.

"Lady Mary said that the Dowager Countess and Dr Clarkson have helped his lordship and her ladyship to…resolve things."

"I heard. That's good, that's good for them. But Dr Clarkson was lying." He looked back down at the child in his arms, who was looking inquisitively around the room.

"I haven't been introduced to your daughter."

Mr Branson looked up, and Anna gave him an encouraging smile. He stepped towards her. "Anna, this is Sybil. Sybbie, I call her."

Grinning, Anna held a hand out to the child. "Hello, Sybbie."

Sybbie's tiny hand briefly grasped at Anna's finger.

"Would you like to hold her?" asked Mr Branson.

"I'd love to."

Mr Branson found that Anna's smile was infectious, and looking down, he saw that his daughter was smiling too as the lady's maid rocked her back and forth. For the first time since she was born, Mr Branson's eyes began to dance. "You look different, Anna," he said.

"I'll bet I do. Mr Bates is coming home."

...

Anna sat in the back of the car, her heart racing, her stomach doing backflips. Every few seconds, she glanced through the back window at the prison gate. Still nothing. She gripped the edge of the seat. What if they didn't let him go? What if Mrs Bartlett had withdrawn her evidence? What if the illustrious Craig had had another go?

She heard a lock click, and she spun around. There was a figure in the doorway, and Anna knew who it was. She flung herself out of the car, and the two of them stood for a moment, just looking at each other. Then she grinned and ran towards him.

As soon as she felt his arms wrap around her, everything that had been missing in her life slipped back into place. A hole she hadn't even been aware she'd been carrying in her heart was suddenly filled back in. In one moment, all the things she'd known she'd been missing but hadn't been able to quite remember suddenly flooded back to her. Her heart sang, and her body purred. Even the ground beneath her feet stilled and relaxed.

Grinning, he pulled back to look at her. Her gloved hands grabbed hold of his jacket, as if they were afraid he'd melt away if they didn't hold on tight.

"Thank God," she said.

"Yes! Thank God!" He sighed, love pouring from his eyes. "And you."

The kiss was more of a relief than anything, strong, but short. Too short. Pulling away, he barely had time to open his eyes and gaze at her before her lips were on his again, the two of them nearly overbalancing as 14 months of longing and heartbreak poured into one perfect kiss.

John tasted salt. Anna was crying. He moved his hands up to her face and brushed the tears away. Then he realised that he was crying too. "It'll be alright now," he choked. "I promise you. It's all alright now, and I will never let go of you ever again."

...

"Are you well, Mr Bates?" asked Mr Molesley. "After the fight last month?"

"What fight?" asked Daisy.

Mr Carson gritted his teeth.

"Mr Bates was attacked by another inmate," explained Anna.

"I'm fine, thankyou, Mr Molesley," said Mr Bates. "Are you enjoying working in the big house?"

"Oh, very much so!" Mr Molesley grinned.

Thomas stood up with a loud scrape of his chair and left the room. Miss O'Brien watched him with a look of satisfaction on her face.

"Mr Bates, this is Ivy," said Mrs Patmore, pulling the kitchen maid forward.

"Hello, Ivy," said Mr Bates, taking the maid's offered hand. "This food is delicious, thankyou very much."

"I did that for you!" Daisy was quick to state.

"Thankyou to Daisy and Mrs Patmore too. I have missed your cooking _so_ much."

Mr Carson cleared his throat. "We have some other new staff too, Mr Bates. These are our footmen, Alfred -"

-Alfred took Mr Bates' hand and smiled gingerly –

"- and James."

"Call me Jimmy," said James, offering a firm handshake.

"And we've two new maids," said Mrs Hughes, "Down the end there, Alice and Marge."

"I'll try to remember all those names!" said Mr Bates sheepishly.

The bell board erupted into a chorus. First Lady Grantham's and Lady Edith's bells rang, followed in quick succession by Mr Crawley's and then Lord Grantham's. Mr Bates looked up at it.

"Err, you finish your breakfast, Mr Bates, Thomas can deal with that," said Mr Carson. "Mr Barrow? Where have you got to?" He disappeared into the corridor.

"It's so good to see you," grinned Mrs Hughes, slipping into the seat opposite Mr Bates as Mr Molesley left to attend Mr Crawley. "I think I'm smiling almost as much as Anna is!"

Anna, who'd been grinning and stroking Mr Bates' arm, blushed and looked down at her plate.

"Thankyou, Mrs Hughes, it's wonderful to see you too! It's so nice to be welcomed back."

"Of course you're welcome back, we've missed you!"

Another bell rang on the board, and they looked up. It was Lady Mary's. Anna and Mr Bates looked at each other, the smiles on their faces disappearing.

"Don't worry, Anna, we'll look after him," said Mrs Patmore, sliding into the seat to the right of Mr Bates.

"Would you like me to go?" said Mrs Hughes. "There's not really anyone else…"

"Don't be silly, Mrs Hughes," breathed Anna, gripping her husband's hand under the table. "I'll be back in just a jiffy."

"I'd like to take it as a compliment that you missed my cooking, but I bet they fed you pig swill in there." When Mr Bates didn't react, Mrs Patmore looked around to where his eyes were focussed, on the doorway that Anna had just disappeared through.

"I bet they did," said Mrs Hughes.

"Hmm?" Mr Bates turned back to them. "What?"

"I said I bet they fed you pig swill in there, so anything'd taste good in comparison."

"Oh. Yes." Mr Bates took a sip of his tea. "Cracking good tea, this." He sighed in deep satisfaction. "Hit a spot that's not been hit for a while."

"Ivy made the tea…" said Mrs Patmore, looking disappointed.

...

"Are your cheeks sore yet, Anna?" Lady Mary asked, watching her maid through the mirror.

"Yes, they are, my lady!" Anna replied, and beamed even wider.

"Mine are getting sore just from looking at you! I can't look at you and not smile!"

"Thankyou, my lady. Thankyou so much for your support throughout all of this."

"No problem."

"I couldn't have got through it without you." Anna tried to become serious for this speech, but her mouth couldn't help darting upwards. "I'm sorry, my lady, I really do mean that from the bottom of my heart, but I just can't stop smiling!"

"Go on, I can finish this. Don't do any more work until the dressing gong. And if you can stop looking into your husband's eyes for one moment, bring him to see me. I'd like to welcome him back."

"Thankyou, my lady."

"Off you go, then."

Anna darted towards the door, almost bowling over Mr Crawley, who was just coming through it.

"Sorry, sir!" she called as she rushed off down the corridor.

Mr Crawley looked confused.

His wife laughed at him. "Bates is back," she explained.

"Oh! Of course. And you're still making her dress you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Someone's got to. Don't tease me, Matthew, I've given her the rest of the day off."

"Would you run headlong through the house if I'd been away and just got back?"

"If you'd been in prison for a year, I think I would." Mary stood up and moved towards him.

"Not if I'd just been away on a trip, or something?"

"Maybe." Stepping into his arms, she kissed him.

"How long would I have to be away for? A week? A month?"

"Don't go away for a month!"

"Would you run headlong into Cousin Violet just to get to me?"

"Haha. I'd love to." Leaning in, Mary kissed her husband with a smile.

...

**That last bit was for Matthew and Mary fans, and for Julian Fellowes, who's clearly obsessed with them. In exchange for it, I will DELETE the two Matthew/Mary bedroom scenes from this episode. Honestly, Matthew and Mary, who are smoochy and smutty in every single episode of series 3, get two bedroom scenes in 3x07, and Anna and Bates don't even get one? Bloody ridiculous!**


	8. Chapter 8

Fairly skipping back down the stairs and along the corridor, Anna's smile faltered momentarily when she found that her husband was not where she left him. Looking around, she heard a noise in Mrs Hughes' office, and poked her head through the door.

"Mrs Hughes?"

Mrs Hughes turned around from her desk, a wide smile on her face. "Anna! It's so good to see you smile, my girl. So very, very good."

"It's good to smile, Mrs Hughes, believe me."

"I'll bet."

"Lady Mary said she won't need me again until the dressing gong, so I wonder if I might…"

"Of course you may. We should give you some time off, really, but I know his lordship wants to give you a couple of days when you've got your cottage – although why that hasn't happened yet I don't know, it's not as if we didn't know that Mr Bates was being released. I've a mind to speak to Mr Jarvis about it."

"Lady Mary said she'd do that."

"Oh good. If there's one good thing about Lady Mary, it's -"

"Do you know where Mr Bates is?"

"Oh, he's gone to speak to his lordship. Said he'd try to catch him when he came out of the breakfast room."

"Thankyou, Mrs Hughes."

Mrs Hughes had only looked away for a moment, but when she looked at the doorway again, Anna was gone. Chuckling to herself, she went back to her desk.

...

John heard fast footsteps coming up the servants' staircase just before he reached it. Opening the door, he stood aside to wait for the person to pass, not realising until she was already through the door that it was Anna.

"Hello!" he said in surprise, a familiar smile erupting on his face.

The same smile erupted onto Anna's. "There you are!" She stepped back through the open doorway, then turned to look at him.

"Oh, were you looking for me?"

"Of course I was looking for you!"

John quickly stepped beside his wife and they began to descend the stairs together.

"Sorry, I just went to speak to his lordship. I thought you wouldn't be finished yet."

"I only have to dress one lady now, you know."

"Ah, of course."

"And today I was particularly fast about it." Anna giggled.

"Were you now?"

"Would you like to go for a walk? I've been given the afternoon and the rest of the morning off."

"Have you now?" John's eyes danced.

"We could go and look at cottages. Or we could go to the lake, or walk through the rose garden, or…"

"Anything. Anything with you."

...

As they were walking back along the lane that lead from the cottages to the house, and marvelling at how close they were, a figure came into sight striding across the lawn towards them. The figure waved.

"Who's that?" said John.

Anna looked across. "Oh, it's Mr Branson. Dressed slightly differently than you remember." She waved back.

"Indeed."

"Mr Bates!" said the Irishman as he finally reached the path. He held out his hand and grinned. "Welcome back!"

"Thankyou, Mr Branson."

"How are you?"

"Very well, now! It's nice to see you again. I've been thinking of you."

"Thanks. Do you mind if I walk with you?"

"Of course not," said Anna. "Please join us."

The three former colleagues began to walk back towards the house.

"Mary said they were going to give you a cottage. Have you been to take a look?"

"Yes. It's not ready yet, though."

"Yeah, Matthew said he was going to hassle Mr Jarvis about it. I hope it's ready soon."

"I shall have to thank Mr Crawley for that. How is your daughter?" asked Mr Bates.

"She's grand, thankyou." The Irishman smiled again. "She's having her afternoon nap at the moment, but if you come by later, I'll introduce you."

"She's gorgeous," said Anna.

"It's so good to see you back, Mr Bates. I'm so glad justice triumphed!"

...

Thomas watched Jimmy as he ran up the stairs with the sauce.

"You make a cosy couple, I must say," said the cunning lady's maid.

Thomas frowned. "I don't think so."

"That's not what I've heard. Alfred says he's always going on about you. Silly sloppy stuff. Alfred's sick and tired of it and no wonder."

"Well, he's making it up."

"Have it your own way."

Still frowning, Thomas moved off down the corridor, sucking on his cigarette deep in thought. Making his way to the privy outside, he stopped to butt out his cigarette on the doorframe and then turned to go in, running headlong into Mr Bates, who was just coming out.

"Thomas," said Mr Bates stiffly. "I mean, Mr Barrow."

Thomas glared at him. "Very sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Anna appeared at the edge of the courtyard, and stood watching them.

"His lordship told you to rest, is that right? What makes you so sure you're gonna get your job back?"

"Only the fact that it was my job all along."

"It should have been my job back in 1912."

Shaking his head, Mr Bates began to walk away.

"I won't go without a fight, you know."

Mr Bates turned. "Is that a threat?"

"You threatened me once. Never went through with it."

"Good job for you I didn't."

Thomas laughed and lit another cigarette, his hands shaking. "Is that so?"

"Thomas," said Anna, moving forward. "Is it really such a bad thing? Why don't you start anew somewhere else? You could be a butler in a smaller house."

"That's Mr Barrow to you, Anna."

"Oh, well, in that case, that's Mrs Bates to you, you're not the only one who's been promoted." Anna stepped forward and took Mr Bates' arm. He smiled.

"I _was_ promoted. That's the point."

"Oh yes. Acting valet to the Earl of Grantham. You were an acting sergeant once, too, but did they ever actually give you the stripes?"

Thomas's eyes narrowed. "Yes, they did."

"Well they didn't this time."

Anna stared at Thomas and Thomas stared back, until he finally grunted, turned and walked away without another word.

"That was quite harsh, Mrs Bates."

"I don't know what sort of fight he's planning, but it'll be pretty lonely in his corner!"

John grinned. "Thanks." He put his arm around Anna and they walked back into the courtyard, sitting on the crates by the wall. Anna slipped her arm under his and snuggled into his shoulder.

"There are a few things I'd like to say to you, Anna," he said quietly. "Well, two things."

"Two things?"

John sighed. "I'm sorry, and thankyou. And I love you – three things!"

"Well I like the third one, but the first two aren't really necessary. Particularly the first one, as it wasn't your fault."

"But it was."

"Where on earth did you get that idea?"

John put a hand over hers and began to stroke it. "Anna, I will give you time to respond later, but right now, I have to say this, so will you please listen to me?"

"You need to let go of self-blame."

"You have helped me a lot with that. So much, and I'm sure you will continue to do so, but before you do, will you shoosh for five minutes please?"

"Alright." A smile played at the corners of Anna's mouth.

"Don't smile, this is serious!"

"OK."

John looked into her eyes and took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I want to apologise for all the pain that I've caused you over the last eight years. That's a long time to wait to get to this point. The complications were all on my side, they were nothing to do with you, and you didn't have to persevere through them, you could have gone and married some nice uncomplicated man, but instead you chose me, and I can't tell you how grateful I am that you did, but you have suffered a lot because of that, and I am sorry.

"I mistakenly, and, to be frank, quite arrogantly, thought that I could get a divorce out of Vera, and I constantly told you that I could, you trusted me to arrange it and I just made blunder after blunder from start to finish. To begin with, I asked you to marry me before I had even spoken to her about a divorce! Then she came and took me away, and what I did to you then was the worst thing I have ever ever done and I will never forgive myself for it, not ever, but I did it so that you would not be tied to, or your reputation smeared by, an attachment to me while I wasn't free, and I made up my mind that I shouldn't see you again until I was free, but then what did I do? I made one breakthrough in the divorce process, one very tiny breakthrough, and I came and stalked you in Downton village, so of course you found out where I was and I was overjoyed by that, but I said to you and to myself, I will not come back to Downton until I get this sorted. That I didn't stick to either, I came back to Downton so long before anything was even remotely sorted, and it dragged on for another year, very publicly, with all the servants and the family knowing all about it and knowing exactly how very badly it was going; meanwhile you and I were publicly engaged and I kept saying to you, 'It'll be fine, it won't be long now, just leave it to me,' and you said to me, the day before she died, you said, 'Why are you going down there again, surely there's nothing you can possibly say to make her change her mind,' but I went down there anyway, I lost my temper, and I walked right into her trap.

"The reason why I say that it was my fault is that I had behaved so badly; fighting with her, yelling down the phone at her and at my lawyer, publicly wishing her dead - my behaviour is probably what gave her the idea, she didn't have to do anything at all! To get me tried, convicted and sentenced to death for her murder, _all she had to do was die_. The rest of it just fell neatly into place because of my despicable behaviour."

Anna put up a hand. "I do have to interrupt you there, because impressive though your arguments are, you were a victim of a miscarriage of justice and you can't possibly -"

"What did they say in the trial? What evidence did they use?"

"A load of circumstantial rubbish, that's what!"

"Circumstantial, yes. Rubbish, no. It was all true. Every single thing the prosecution said about me was true. I did threaten to hit her in Mrs Hughes' office, I did yell threats down the phone, I did tell his lordship that I wished she was dead, and he did tell me to calm down and hold my temper! It was all true, and it was enough to convict me. And if there wasn't, by a lucky chance, a witness to the specific time of the pastry making, I'd still be in there."

"Then they need to overhaul the entire justice system. If all you need is circumstantial suggestion – all the trial did was prove that you were angry with her! Of course you were angry with her, she stole all your money and she wouldn't get out of your life, but it is a very big step from providing evidence that you were angry with her to providing evidence that you killed her, and if they can convict a man without taking that step, then there is something very wrong with our justice system."

"You may be right, but it's their job to convict the person who is most likely to have committed the crime, and that person was me."

"John, you were the victim of a miscarriage of justice – of attempted murder, actually -"

"Anna…" John cupped her face in his hand, and looked into her eyes. "For all that you have suffered, I am sorry."

"Don't be silly."

"Alright, I knew you wouldn't accept it, but at least you let me say it – now, the second thing. The second thing that I have to say to you, from the bottom of my heart, is thankyou. Thankyou for standing by me. Thankyou for marrying me in spite of it all. Thankyou for believing in me, for never once doubting my innocence, even when everything pointed the other way. Thankyou for visiting me, and for writing me so many letters. I could not have got through it without that. Thankyou for standing up for me. Thankyou for never backing down. Thankyou for never losing hope, and for making sure that I didn't either. Thankyou for working so hard for my release – I owe you my freedom, and a great deal more besides, and I will be forever in your debt."

"I told you, I did it for selfish reasons, I only wanted you home!"

"I think others took their lead from you as well, that's why they're welcoming me back now, because you told them right from the start that I wasn't guilty, and they believed you. That's why Lady Mary and Mr Crawley, who hardly even know me, fought for me as well, and Mr Crawley worked on the appeal that got me off death row, so Anna, I owe you my life. Thankyou."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that. I would have saved your life if I could, but that was a legal thing."

"I owe you so much."

"You don't owe me anything. I'm your wife, it's my job to stand by you!"

"You didn't have to marry me."

"Yes, I did."

John's lips twitched. "I know that as my wife it's also your job to argue with me, but would you stop it?"

"No." Anna grinned.

John stroked the side of her face, first with his fingers and then with his whole hand. "And the final thing I have to say, my darling wife, is that I love you. Always and completely."

"I love you too. Now come here." Anna covered his lips with hers. John leaned into her, unable to believe that he was free, in every sense of the word, to spend the rest of his life with this beautiful woman. The kiss became deeper. He tasted salt again. This time, it was from his own eyes.

There came the sound of the back door opening, and John and Anna jumped apart.

"Anna?" called Mrs Hughes. "Mr Bates? Are you out here?"

There was awkward silence for a few moments as Anna and Mr Bates desperately tried to make themselves look presentable, and then Anna realised that Mrs Hughes was looking straight ahead, deliberately not searching for them with her eyes. She smiled. "Yes, Mrs Hughes," she called.

"Dinner is served," said the housekeeper. "You'd better come in."


	9. Chapter 9

"Alright, everybody, here comes our guest of honour!" announced Mrs Patmore as she watched Mr Bates, Anna and Mrs Hughes walk through the back door.

"Does that mean we can start eating?" said Miss O'Brien. "We don't normally have to wait until the stragglers get here to start."

"You will start eating when I start eating, Miss O'Brien," rumbled Mr Carson. "And I am waiting for Mr Bates."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Carson, I didn't realise," said Mr Bates, as he and Anna took their seats opposite Thomas and Mr Molesley.

"That's alright, you're only just back," said Mr Carson. "You're allowed to be a little leisurely."

Miss O'Brien rolled her eyes at Thomas. Thomas looked stiffly at his plate of stew.

"Now, Mr Bates," said Mrs Patmore loudly. "As you know, I don't normally take requests for food, and I haven't done today either, but I did ask Anna what your favourite meal was, and she said Irish stew with mashed potatoes, so there you are - if she got it wrong, you'll have to take it up with her."

"No, she's right!" said Mr Bates, beaming. "Thankyou very much."

"Enjoy. Don't the rest of you start getting ideas, mind!" The cook patted Mr Bates on the shoulder and walked back to the kitchen.

...

"How has your day been, Anna?" asked Lady Mary as she removed her jewellery.

"Fantastic!"

"Mr Branson said you went to look at the cottages."

"We went for a long walk, my lady. It was lovely. And we did pass the cottages."

"I'm afraid Mr Crawley and Papa didn't have a chance to speak to Jarvis about that, because he resigned in the middle of their meeting."

"Oh, really?" Anna looked shocked. "Whatever for?"

"He thought Matthew insulted him. And maybe he did, but Jarvis was refusing to co-operate."

"Oh dear."

"Oh well, it's done now. We will get you a cottage, I promise, and so does Papa."

"Of course, my lady. I don't doubt your promises. And don't worry, we can wait."

"You shouldn't have to."

"We're very used to it."

"Have you been given a room to stay in for now?"

"Oh, err, no, I'm not sure what you mean, my lady."

Lady Mary spun around. "What? I'm not sure what you mean!"

"Well, there is limited accommodation in the servants' quarters, and, what with the segregated corridor, there's not really anything we can do – not anything that Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes will allow, anyway. I don't think there's ever been a married couple working here before, so there aren't really any arrangements for it."

"You'll have to take a guest room, then." Lady Mary smiled knowingly.

"Well…" Anna sighed. "The thing is, we're not guests, so we can't stay in a room indefinitely, but we don't know when the cottage is going to be ready, so…"

"You will find some way to be together, won't you? You're married, and you've been apart for more than a year – they can't expect you to sleep separately in a segregated corridor!"

"We could always spend the night in the courtyard." Anna laughed weakly.

"Take a guest room, Anna, that's an order! If anyone objects, refer them to me."

"An order, my lady?"

"Yes! You can't possibly be intending to sleep apart from him?"

Anna smiled. "No, my lady. I'm not."

...

Anna found her husband standing at the edge of the courtyard by the driveway, looking up at the stars. He turned when he heard her coming, and smiled. "I haven't seen stars since…that Sunday night. The day before Miss Swire's funeral. I remember you were talking about how sad it was. I had my arm around you, and we were looking up at the stars."

Anna stepped close to him, allowing him to put his arm around her in the same way as he had then. "Didn't you have a window in your cell?"

"Yes. But you couldn't see much out of it."

"How horrible. I can't imagine not being able to see the stars. I think I'd go mad."

"I did a bit."

Anna pulled him closer, and he kissed her hair.

"So what do you want to do tonight, then?"

John thought for a moment. "Umm…Are you referring to options other than standing around out here?"

"I am."

"What did you have in mind, Mrs Bates?"

"Well…Lady Mary has ordered me to take a guest room."

"Ordered you?"

"Yes. She was most insistent."

John chuckled.

"The trouble with that, of course, is that we're not guests, so we'd have to find a room, make up the bed, then unmake it again in the morning and get the sheets to the laundry before anybody noticed."

"How badly do you want to spend the night with me, Mrs Bates?"

Anna glared at him playfully. "It's quite ridiculous, really, isn't it? How hard would it have been for them to just allocate us a guest room, or a servant's room?"

"Well, having a guest room would be against all the rules of our class, and sharing a servant's room would be against all the rules of our sex."

"It is another option, though, I could open the door in the corridor and go into your room. We could spend the night there."

"You naughty girl."

"Well that's the thing, women aren't banned from going into the men's corridor – I've been in there before, loads of times. It's the men that are banned from going into the maids' corridor."

"I don't think maids are allowed to spend the night in the men's corridor, though."

"Well, no, but who would know?"

"I'm not sure if I can be quiet."

Anna blushed. "It would be like being in a fish bowl, wouldn't it?"

"Breaking the rules in a fish bowl."

"They seem like silly rules, though, when we're married. And we've been apart for so long. I think the staff just don't understand because they've never been in love or shared their life with someone, so they don't understand that when you're in that situation, you just can't sleep apart. Don't you think?"

"I never want to sleep apart from you ever again." John kissed her, deeply, passionately.

Anna rose onto her tiptoes and put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Long repressed feelings began to bubble to the surface. She pulled away, resting her forehead on his. "Which option are we going for, then?"

"I think we need to decide right, right now." He kissed her again with a force that almost toppled her off her tip-toes.

"Hurry up and decide, then!"

"Me? Anna, I believe the gentlemanly thing would be to leave this up to you!"

"You're not being very gentlemanly at the moment."

"No I'm not." John stepped forward, pushing her against the wall of the laundry. He moved in to kiss her again.

"Wait!" she whispered. "Shh."

John heard it too, and turning his head, he saw four figures come into sight at the other end of the driveway. "I think we're in a bit of a fishbowl here too."

"Yeah." Letting go of him, Anna stepped away from the wall. "Guest room," she whispered. "The same one as before. Wait ten minutes, then follow me." And with a quick kiss to his cheek, she was gone.

John leaned heavily against the wall, breathing deeply. He wondered if this was really happening, or if he was just dreaming in his cell. Then he heard her voice from earlier in the day. "Believe." Glancing at the approaching maids and footman, he slipped to the back door, and inside.

...

**I'm not sure how much more I want to write, because I'd rather not do anything M-rated, and after this point, the events of the broadcast episodes were quite fine. Actually, the events after this point fit in quite well with what I and other Anna/Bates writers have written, because Anna did look very tired at the next morning's breakfast which indicates that she had definitely been up all night with Mr Bates. It doesn't indicate what they were doing, but I think the way they interact in the first scene in their cottage in 3x08 (**_**before**_** they had moved into it) indicates very strongly that they had definitely been up to something somewhere in the house before then. Tee hee hee. Why Fellowes didn't put more Anna/Bates stuff in the end of series 3 is beyond me – he certainly put plenty in the beginning of series 3, but maybe by the end he had too many other storylines going on? Well, Mr Fellowes, in future, would you please finish an old storyline properly before you start a new one?**


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